Midwinter's Requiem
Sometimes I wonder what music means to others, do they hear it with just ears or it echoes through their souls? Does every crescendo mark breathe drawn to their lungs are at the brim, and every diminuendo bear relax? I wonder what music means to you.
Sariyu
I walked into a room recently to see someone and I whispered your name as I looked around, hoping against all possible odds to see you somewhere close, I could smell that same ginger tea you never had enough of fill the room along with the smell of freshly cut lime. My eyes watered a bit, almost like the little cheap black-handled knife was back in my small hand and the lime in the other. And for a moment I didn't want to leave that room, because you were there, even though I couldn't see you, you were there in every scent.
I bought some chips the other day, I didn't know why, because I never liked them but I felt compelled to, and as I wait for my change, I saw you, seated where the trader sat, untying the tip of her wrapper the same way you would as you'd remind me to always keep my valuables close even when I had no pockets, and maybe I smiled too wide and too painfully at the trader, as she asked if I needed anything else, knowing I couldn't ask for a hug.
I tried again to make cabbage soup, in remembrance of that one time we'd kept cabbages from you during the festivities because we wanted it to ourselves, only to remember it much later with no idea how to make salad, and you told us to make soup with it. My cabbage soup tasted just as bad as the first, but this time I didn't grunt as I ate it, I couldn't stop eating it, and as bad as it was, I never wanted it to finish. Because with every spoon I took, you were there laughing beside me until I couldn't hear you anymore.
Charlotte
I was at your remembrance the other day, and it was the first time in so long since I saw everyone gathered, everyone wore long faces, took quiet sighs, hugged each other, made small talks to fill up the silence. I saw everyone waiting for you to walk in, to ask about that family member that was still on their way, to ask if we'd had breakfast and what we'd like, to whisper to me where I could find the sweets you'd kept for me. I saw everyone waiting, but no one spoke of it, no one could.
I'm a mosaic of everything I watched you be, I still sit in your favourite chair, I still hear the lullabies, I still look forward to Christmas and your birthdays, I still see you on dusty roads in harmattan, heading to church, I still get lost looking for you. I still try to be as kind as you.
This is so painfully beautiful 🥹🥺and inadequately enough🫠,may your strength never fade